


Something Completely Different

by shadowfire125



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:09:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowfire125/pseuds/shadowfire125
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Partly ridiculous, partly adorable, wildly AU. Belle and Killian are BFFsies and Rumpelstiltskin has to put up with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which We Begin With a Cliché

**Author's Note:**

> So during the hiatus, my bestie blitzworrior and I went a bit stir-crazy waiting for the show to come back. The two of us have a bit of a conflict of interest, seeing as my favorite character is Rumpelstiltskin and hers is Killian. So between these two factors, we came up with an entirely impossible AU where everyone is happy. It works like this: Milah dies of an illness or something long before she ever meets Killian. Killian keeps both hands but ends up a pirate in Neverland anyway, and a short while before Belle comes into the picture he and Rumpelstiltskin somehow end up friendly-ish because they share a love of shiny things (I mean, you _saw_ the way Killian fondled the gold coin in the giant's castle, right?). So then Belle comes into the picture and she and Killian immediately hit it off and make Rumpelstiltskin's life a misery. Come Storybrooke, they end up in a similar situation with each other. Everyone is happy and everything is silly. Something to ease the pain of all the horrible things happening in the show, especially after The Outsider (oh my god I'm so upset). This is really not meant to be taken seriously in any way, and even though I will write some serious moments because I can't help myself, the entire premise is so far from canon we have probably fallen off the edge of the world and are counting the turtles on our way down. Hopefully this will amuse you as much as it amuses me.

It was a dark and stormy night, and Isabelle French was just closing up the library. The day had been uneventful, and that was perfectly fine. She liked having days where it was just her and her books, sitting together in companionable silence. Tomorrow she would have to go harass Mr. Gold about his late fees, so that promised to be a good day as well.

Smiling to herself, she pulled up the hood of her rain jacket and turned, and almost immediately stumbled over a dark form huddled on the stoop. She bit back a curse and caught her balance just in time. The figure scrambled to its feet, revealing itself to be a scruffy young man a good head taller than her, bundled up in an amalgam of tattering raincoats stuffed with crumpled newspapers for extra insulation. "I'm terribly sorry, miss," he said. Despite his appearance, he was all charm and sophistication.

"It's quite all right," Izzy replied. "What on Earth are you doing out in this weather?"

"Haven't anywhere else to go," he said, shrugging it off nonchalantly. "This seemed fair shelter." Despite his casual manner, she saw him shiver, and rainwater plastered his bangs to his forehead.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Blaine Morris," he said with a sweeping bow, "at your service."

She couldn't help curtseying in return. "Izzy French."

He tried to mask a sneeze. "I shan't tarry you further, milady. The weather is terrible, after all."

"It is," she agreed. "Which is why you're coming with me."

He raised his eyebrows. "Sorry?"

"My apartment is right around the corner," she said. "I can't in good conscience leave you out here. You'll catch your death."

He regarded her. "Is it often you invite strange men back to your place?"

"I don't make a habit of it, no." She gave him a nonchalant shrug of her own, trying to hide her trepidation. She was pretty sure this wasn't a good idea, but like she'd told him, she didn't have the heart to leave him shivering in a storm.

"You're awfully trusting."

"Perhaps," she replied. "But I have a bit of insurance."

His expression was slowly turning incredulous. "Do you now."

She smiled at him innocently. "I have connections. Rather good ones, in fact. With Mr. Gold."

"Ah," he said. "Yes. Fair enough. Lead the way, milady."

* * *

Belle had only been at the Dark Castle for a couple of weeks. Adjusting had been hard, but far easier than she had expected. The hardest part was probably the complete lack of other people, and homesickness. But after the first few days, she had realized that at least where she was concerned, Rumpelstiltskin seemed completely harmless. For all his fearsome reputation and his occasional attempts at scaring her, he was actually rather awkward. He obviously wasn't all that used to dealing with people for amounts of time longer than it took to make a deal, and as a result he couldn't keep up his 'terrible monster' façade 24/7. She had seen his darker side, oh yes, and knew the rumors were anything but unfounded, but she had trouble reconciling the formidable Deal-Maker with the man who would spend hours transfixed by his spinning wheel and tripped over his own tongue if she did something nice for him.

He had layers just waiting to be unwrapped, and Belle was not a strong enough person to resist the riddle he presented.

Then the mystery took an unexpected twist.

She was dusting the entrance hall one afternoon when the great doors swung open. Her head snapped up in surprise as sunlight flooded the foyer to see a man standing in the doorway.

Their eyes met, and they both froze. There was a long, tense moment in which neither of them knew what to do, and was broken when Rumpelstiltskin walked in.

"Oh," he said.

Immediately, the both of them turned to the spinner for explanation.

"Who's she?" the stranger asked at the same time Belle asked, "Who's he?"

Rumpelstiltskin pinched the bridge of his nose. "Belle, this is Killian Jones. Resident pirate. Killian, this is Belle le Faye. Hired help."

Belle and Killian looked back at each other. "Resident pirate?" she asked at the same time Killian asked, "Hired help?"

"Oh my gods," Rumpelstiltskin said, looking caught between irritation and complete mortification. "I don't have time for this." He turned on his heel and left as quickly as he could.

Awkward silence blanketed the foyer again. After a while, Killian said, "You go first."

* * *

Blaine studied the apartment with interest as Izzy made a hurried attempt to bring some sense of organization to her living room.

"It's very cozy," he noted.

She blushed. No one had been in here since she'd broken up with George. "Thank you. You're welcome to use the shower. I think my ex left some of his things, so I should be able to find a spare shirt or something that will fit you, and I'll set up the couch with some blankets."

He gave her a small bow. "My thanks." He left her standing in the middle of the living room, twisting her fingers together and wondering exactly what she'd gotten herself into this time. She would let him crash on her couch tonight – and then what? Fall was quickly coming to a close. She hadn't been able to leave him on the street in this weather, and the weather was only going to start getting worse. He'd looked so grateful when she offered him a warm place to stay, and she couldn't just turn him out again. She could get him a job, maybe. The library didn't have enough funds to hire someone, but she knew enough people around town. He seemed well educated, so it couldn't be hard to find him somewhere to work. But then why hadn't he gotten a job already?

She groaned and rubbed her temples, deciding to sleep on it. Perhaps with the morning would come answers.

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin was at his wheel, trying to lose himself in the spinning. But he heard someone approaching softly from behind, and from the footfalls he could tell it was Belle. She pulled a stool up next to him and pretended to be interested in the steady flow of straw and thread, but he could feel it coming and couldn't concentrate.

"So," she said, drawing the word out with false indifference. "Resident pirate."

He almost tangled his fingers, but doggedly kept on.

She twirled her hair around her finger, watching him from the corner of her eye, and it was horribly distracting.

He couldn't take it anymore. "What has he told you?" he gritted out.

"Oh, not much," she said casually. "Just about your extensive basement of gold. That you let him sleep in."

Rumpelstiltskin clenched his jaw. Apparently the pirate thought that tarnishing the Dark One's reputation was worth revealing what most would think of as an embarrassing secret. Maybe Killian didn't even care who knew about his alarming addiction to gold, and just saw an opportunity to take a jab at Rumpelstiltskin's dignity.

It was probably the latter.

She seemed to be waiting for him to reply, so finally he stopped the wheel and fixed her with his best glare. "Is there any particular reason you feel the need to hassle me at this point in time?"

She shook her head, struggling to keep from laughing.

"He's useful," Rumpel snapped. "On occasion. Keeps people out. Brings me information. Is  _discreet_." He raised his voice on the last one, because he could sense Killian lurking by the door.

Killian stepped into view, grinning like the  _absolute git_  he was. "You're-" He stifled a snicker. "You're the one who 'hired' help. Did you think – heh – think she wasn't- wasn't going to meet me?" The pirate was slowly turning red from his efforts not to laugh.

A giggle bubbled out of Belle's throat before she could catch it.

Rumpelstiltskin didn't even bother snapping his fingers before he teleported away to his study in a puff of purple smoke.

* * *

"What is going on here," Mr. Gold said flatly. He had come to the library to save Izzy the trouble of seeking him out, and had found something he wasn't entirely sure he was okay with.

Izzy gave him an innocent look. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You know very well what I mean, dearie."

She glanced over her shoulder at Blaine, who was busy shelving books. "He's a volunteer," she finally said.

"Really."

Izzy nodded cheerfully.

"You are aware that that is Mr. Morris, the man who can be found sleeping on our lovely little town's park benches?" Gold's eyes were still fixed on the man in question.

"Yes," she replied patiently. "I found him outside the library last night, and I've given him somewhere to stay."

Mr. Gold's face went blank. "You're letting him stay with you."

"All I did was give him a couch to crash on. The poor fellow is terribly malnourished, and he's such a gentleman. I didn't have the heart to leave him on the streets."

"Isabelle," Gold said. "You can't just let strange men into your home."

She put a hand on his arm. "He's been nothing but polite, and I name-dropped you just to be on the safe side."

He finally turned his attention from Blaine to Izzy.

"Don't worry," she added teasingly. "You're still my favorite person in Storybrooke."

The corners of his mouth tugged down into a kind of grimace. "The norm is bringing home stray cats, dearie, not stray people."

"Well, I've never been much of one for the norm," she replied with a grin, and Gold knew he had lost.


	2. In Which Blaine Does Not Get a Job

Belle liked Killian. He was not like Rumpelstiltskin, did not pose the most tempting of challenges, but he told her stories of far off places and strange lands, including the lengthy amount of time he had spent in Neverland and his ongoing feud with a tribe of feral children.

"Children?" Belle laughed. "You do battle with  _children_?"

Killian shook his head. "No, you don't understand. You don't  _age_  in Neverland, sweetheart. They're not children anymore, they're eldritch monsters."

Belle just kept laughing.

Rumpelstiltskin liked Killian on some level, too, she thought, otherwise he wouldn't let the pirate stay. Killian said that he'd impressed the imp, and Belle was immediately skeptical, but it was the one story the pirate wouldn't share.

"You want to know," he said, "you've got to drag it out of our belligerent friend yourself."

* * *

"No," said Mr. Gold.

"Surely you could use some help around the place?" Izzy pleaded.

" _You_  hire him if you want him to get a job that badly."

"Can't," she muttered.

"See?" said Gold as he ran a rag over the counter, polishing the glass. "Find him a job or toss him back into the gutter you found him in."

Izzy gave him a reproachful look. " _Nicholas_."

"What?" he asked defensively. "He's a grown man. You don't have to hold his hand to cross the road."

"I'll find something," she said, jabbing a finger at him. "You see if I don't."

Something like a smirk twitched at Gold's mouth. "Usually I'm more into making deals than gambling, dearie, but I'll bet you an old tome I've got buried somewhere in the back of my shop that you don't."

She narrowed her eyes. "What kind of tome?"

"Oh, very valuable. Some kind of history, I believe."

She bit her lip. History was her kryptonite. "Alright," she said, putting her hands on the counter and leaning forward. He looked a bit disgruntled that she was smudging up the glass he'd just cleaned, but was more focused on how close she was. "What about if you win?"

This time he really did smirk, but it masked his uncertainty poorly. "You have to give me a kiss."

There it was. They'd been dancing around each other for months, having admitted their feelings for each other but never acting on it. She'd just come out of a bad breakup, and Gold seemed to have issues of his own as yet unvoiced. A part of her shouted,  _Finally_! and another part of her went,  _Oh god_. She turned bright red and said with more confidence than she felt, "You're on."

* * *

Belle sidled into Rumpelstiltskin's tower study. He had his back to her, working at his alchemy set. She could tell he'd noticed her come in because he paused for a moment as he was reaching for a glass vial, but then he continued on as if nothing had happened. Still, there was a certain tense line to his shoulders now.

"So," she said, finding a comfy armchair and flopping down in it. "Killian."

"I thought we covered this already," Rumpel snapped.

"Not entirely," she said, and stretched. The armchair was gloriously pillowy. She felt like she could get lost in it.

She thought she heard him growl, a deep sound from his throat that no human could make, but it was frustrated rather than threatening. "He said he impressed you," she said.

"That's what he thinks, is it?" Rumpelstiltskin shook his head and poured a dark purple fluid into a beaker that was bubbling over a small flame. There was a puff of yellow smoke and the liquid in the beaker turned a horrible lime green.

"How did you meet him?"

Rumpelstiltskin almost physically bristled. "Why is it you  _insist_  on pestering me when I am trying to work?"

Belle was silent a long moment, considering him. She could only see his back, but his posture was almost as expressive as his face. He was incredibly conscious of her presence, and it was probably making him nearly as tense as her line of questioning was.

At last, she heaved herself from the chair. "I'll get it out of you, one way or another," she told him, and left him to his potions.

* * *

Blaine was sitting on the couch and Izzy was sitting on a dining room chair she'd pulled up so she was across the coffee table from him. "Alright," Izzy said, spreading a map of Storybrooke out on the coffee table. "What kind of skills do you have?"

Blaine shrugged. "I can do most things. If I don't know it, I can probably learn it."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why exactly are you living on the streets?"

He leaned back on the couch, spreading his arms out on the backrest. "I don't respond well to authority."

"Right…" She regarded him skeptically, then turned her attention to the map. "Let's start with something simple then." Scanning it carefully, she considered their options. Then something caught her eye and she stabbed her finger onto a point on the map with a, "Ha!"

"What?" Blaine asked, leaning forward with interest.

Izzy showed him what she was pointing at. "It seems a good enough place to start as any."

Blaine looked doubtful, but allowed himself to be dragged out the door.

* * *

Mr. Gold looked up as the bell above his door tinkled and Izzy strutted in. "You seem very pleased with yourself," he noted.

She leaned up against the counter, grinning. "I  _am_  very pleased with myself."

"Hm." He set down his pen. "I take it you managed to get our Mr. Morris a job."

"I did indeed," she replied with a not insignificant amount of smugness. "At the pharmacy."

He sighed and grabbed his cane. "Follow me, then."

He led her into the back of his shop and presented her with a large, dusty, leather-bound tome. "Your prize," he said as she took it from him, her eyes fixed on it. She reverently brushed off some of the dust.

"However," he said, "I should like to make another bet with you."

She looked up at him, her eyebrow arched. "Yes?"

Gold smiled thinly. "You've found him a job. But I will bet you the object of your choice in this shop, regardless of worth, that you will not find him a job he'll keep."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Do you know something?"

"I know a great many things, dearie." His face was impassive, but she could see mischief sparking in his eyes.

"Fine," she said archly. "I accept your challenge."

* * *

Blaine was not having a good day. Not only was the pharmacy one of the most boring places he had ever been, but his new boss just kept _sneezing_  and it was driving him out of his mind.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm gonna go organize the shelves or something," he muttered to his boss, stepping out from behind the counter.

Tom Clark nodded in acknowledgement, and sneezed.

Gritting his teeth, Blaine stalked off to the other end of the store. He felt trapped in here. It was stuffy, and the shelves felt cluttered around him. He heard a distant sneeze and resisted the urge to punch something.

Rounding a corner, he caught sight of a shifty-looking guy in time to see him slide a couple of candy bars into his pocket.

Hello, misplaced aggression. "Hey!" Blaine shouted.

The guy started, took one look at Blaine, and hightailed it. Blaine was after him in a flash. The shoplifter wasn't even ten feet from the door before Blaine tackled him, slamming them both up against the nearest shelf. The whole lot went crashing to the floor. Clark was immediately on his feet, shrieking demands about telling him what the hell was going on here and stopping it this instant.

Neither man paid him any mind, the shoplifter flailing furiously as Blaine wrestled him into submission. Merchandise scattered everywhere, and Clark opted to call local law enforcement rather than become entangled as well. It wasn't long after that Sherriff Graham Hunter arrived on the scene to find the shoplifter with the side of his face squished into a pile of Twinkies and Blaine smugly sitting on him.

Graham sighed and arrested them both.

* * *

Blaine didn't even have the decency to look contrite when Izzy came to bail him out. The shoplifter was in the next cell, a nasty bruise slowly purpling on his cheek. He was sitting as far away from Blaine as he could.

She told Graham about her involvement with Blaine, and he listened with an increasingly incredulous expression. As he rifled through his keys, he said to her, "You're really asking for trouble, aren't you?"

"I don't mind trouble," she replied.

He shrugged and let Blaine out. Freed, Blaine went up to Izzy and took her hand, lifting it above her head and twirling her around. "My lady knight in shining armor," he said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, ruffian. I have a point to make."

* * *

Blaine had made it through the training, even managing to pay attention as the manager droned on about safety regulations and the importance of a sanitary workplace. He found entertainment in flipping the burgers into the air with the spatula, even though (especially because) the manager glared at him every time he caught Blaine attempting something particularly fancy.

This was the only other burger joint in town besides Granny's, and it wasn't nearly as quality. He had one other coworker beside the manager, a pimply teen who looked the type to get regularly bullied by the jocks. The boy had nasally introduced himself as Ted, and Blaine, unable to resist scaring the poor kid, had loomed over him with a feral grin as he responded with his own name. It had been enough to make Ted keep his distance, shooting Blaine nervous glances and skirting around him.

Blaine had been permanently taken off register duty because one customer who'd been ridiculously indecisive about what he wanted had been threatened with promises of broken bones.

It was, of course, only a matter of time before disaster struck. Blaine had never really been good with kitchens, and so had been a bit leery when Izzy got him a job here. He thought he was getting better though, and it's always when he gets cocky that things go horribly wrong.

He was trying to break his record of how high he could flip a patty, unmindful of the other patties as well as the flame height of the grill. Quite accidentally, his hip bumped into the controls, radically turning up the heat. The other patties caught fire, and he was able to recoil in time before the flames leapt up in front of him. Smoke flooded the kitchen, setting off the fire alarms. Ted was screaming hysterically. Unfortunately, the patty Blaine had been flipping had caught fire as well, and when he jerked backward it went spinning away, landing in the grease for the fries. Luckily enough, no one had been standing close enough to get burned by the resulting spray.

When it was all over, the smoke cleared and the firemen informed that their assistance was not required, it was just Blaine and the manager.

The manager fixed him with a thunderous glare, and Blaine winced.

* * *

When Izzy answered the knock at her apartment door, she found Blaine standing before her, smelling of grease and smoke and wearing an apologetic smile.

She sighed and let him inside.

* * *

And now Blaine was at a hot dog stand, and he'd had this job for about five minutes. His new employer was brandishing a costume at him.

"You will wear this," said his employer, a short and sweaty man.

Blaine stared in horror at the thing in his boss' hands. "No," he said, but not in a final sort of way. His brain was still processing the situation.

"You'll wear it," the other man snarled, shoving it into Blaine's unresisting arms, "or you'll hold the record for shortest term of employment."

Ah, threats. Blaine responded to threats, albeit not very well. His grip tightened on the costume, and he fixed his boss with his best glower. "I'm not dressing up as a hot dog," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Apparently the 'no argument' bit was lost on the portly man, because he began to shout. "You're lucky I'm even letting you work here with your track record! You come in off the streets and I'm good enough to give you a job, and then you think you can make demands?  _I_  make the rules here, not you! If I say you dress up as a hot dog, then you-"

As the manager was ranting, Blaine had been quietly unfolding the costume. Now he stepped forward, holding it open, and yanked it down over the manager's head. The shorter man's indignant spluttering became muffled, but Blaine still caught the word 'fired.'

He grinned and strolled away.

* * *

Blaine decided that working in customer service was the worst experience he'd ever had, and that included the time he got drunk and thought getting into a fistfight with a man six and half feet tall and built like a troll was a good idea, and had later woken up in a gutter with a broken nose, a couple of fractured ribs, and a god-awful hangover.

As he listened to a wrinkled old lady demand that she be able to return a jacket she'd had for over a year and had no receipt for, he almost wished he were back in that gutter, spitting out mud and blood.

Almost.

Next up was a forty-something man with an angry face and an unpleasant disposition. His complaints included, rather ironically, the terrible state of customer service. Blaine was in no mood to dissuade the man, and waited out the tirade.

"Are you quite finished?" Blaine asked pleasantly when the man subsided.

"No," he snarled. "I want my refund."

"It's against store policy."

"Like hell it is! Give me my money back!"

"Or what?"

The man was too outraged, or too stupid, to notice the dangerous calm that underlined Blaine's tone, so he said, "Or I'll make you wish you were never born."

Blaine gave him a tight-lipped smile. "That's funny," he replied. "I was about to say the same thing."

* * *

"I can't keep bailing you out of jail," Izzy said as they walked away from the sheriff's station.

Blaine sullenly kicked at a rock on the sidewalk. "Bastard had it coming to him," he muttered.

Izzy stopped and snagged Blaine's sleeve, halting him as well. "Are you even trying?" she asked, trying to keep the anger out of her voice.

Blaine shrugged. "Yeah, I am. The fact that I'm even getting a job to begin with is proof of that."

Izzy chewed her lip, searching his face helplessly.

"I wouldn't mind working for you," he offered.

She shook her head. "The library doesn't have the money to hire anyone."

"Oh." He looked a little crestfallen at that.

And then inspiration struck like lightning. "I can't hire you," she said, "but you can still work for me."

He arched an eyebrow at her, his unspoken question clear.

"You can help me around the library and with whatever else I need help with," she said. "And I'll give you room and board."

His face went blank, so she pushed on. "All I can give you to sleep on is the couch, but-"

He cut her off, expression almost disbelieving. "That's more than enough," he replied. "I don't think I'll ever be able to work off the debt I owe you, but I'll try."

"That's a ridiculous exaggeration," she replied, trying to fight off her embarrassment. "It'll be good to have a pair of helping hands around." She sighed and rubbed her temples. "We've got one more stop to make."

* * *

Killian had set off for the high seas again, and the Dark Castle was blissfully peaceful once more. With the pirate's absence, Belle seemed to have dropped the subject, and life returned to its routine.

Or so Rumpelstiltskin thought.

It was almost a week after Killian had left, and Belle was serving tea. But right before she handed him his teacup (the one with the chip in it), she stopped, holding just out of his reach.

Rumpel narrowed his eyes. "What're you up to, dearie?"

"I want to know the story," Belle replied.

He made a futile lunge for the tea, but she just pulled it further away, so he leaned back in his chair. "Is this really your plan? Blackmailing me with tea? That's absurd."

"I'm not blackmailing you," she said coolly. "I'm irritating you."

Oh, gods. And she knew exactly all the right buttons to push, too. If she was really so determined to hear this story and he refused, his life was about to become incredibly tiring. "Is there nothing I can do to deter you?"

"Nope!" she said cheerily.

He sank a little lower in his chair, and reluctantly began the tale.

* * *

_Three years before Belle arrived…_

So far it had been a relatively peaceful day, and Rumpelstiltskin was sitting at his wheel, watching the flow of straw to gold and minding his own damn business. Then there was a knock at the door.

He looked up, brow furrowing. If it was the Queen, she probably would have just let herself in, and he wasn't expecting any visitors. He left his wheel and made his way to the foyer. The great front doors swung inward, and standing on Rumpel's front step was a youngish man who managed to look clean-cut and scruffy at the same time. Rumpel narrowed his eyes. The stranger didn't seem the type to seek a deal with the Dark One – there was no air of desperation about him, nothing that would drive him to a demon's lair.

The man gave a sweeping bow. "Captain Killian Jones, at your service." Straightening up, he continued, "May I come in?"

Rumpelstiltskin tittered. "Minding your manners when dealing with a monster. Very wise. Enter, then. What is it you wish from me?"

Killian stepped over the threshold, his hand resting lightly on the gilded hilt of the sword at his hip. So the boy had brains enough to be wary at the least. Rumpel's curiosity grew.

"I doubt you've heard of me," Killian said. "I spend most of my time in Neverland. There, I'm a feared pirate. On one of my excursions back to this land, I heard of you, the man who spins straw into gold. I have a particular love of gold, so I decided to pay you a visit."

Rumpelstiltskin's eyebrows rose, and he let out another of his giggles. "Are you really going to try to rob me? With only that toothpick at your disposal? I was under the impression that you had some sense, but it seems I was wrong."

"Not at all, actually," Killian said. "I've no desire to take it from you. I only wish to enjoy it."

Rumpel's overactive imagination immediately went places he wished it hadn't. "Go away," he said.

Killian held his ground. "It very well could be useful having a pirate at your disposal."

Rumpelstiltskin tried to resist it, but the tingling anticipation of making a deal danced under his skin. That was one of the prices of being the Dark One – deal-making was a compulsion. The very suggestion of striking a deal grabbed his attention and held it. "What are you proposing?" he asked carefully.

He shrugged. "Being a pirate is a wealthy business. You don't care about treasure, but we both know that not all riches sparkle."

Rumpel drummed his fingers on his thigh, mulling over the implications. "Continue," he said at last.

"I go a lot of places, meet a lot of people, learn a lot of things," Killian said. "I'm sure a man with more gold than he could ever spend understands that the truest fortune is in information."

"So," Rumpelstiltskin said, circling Killian. "You'll supply me with knowledge, in exchange for… what?"

Killian made a nonchalant gesture. "You let me come by every now and then, hang out."

"If I'm understanding you correctly," Rumpel said, eyeing the pirate's face for any sign of deception, "you want to have part-time residence in the castle of the most dangerous sorcerer in the land so you can sit on a pile of gold that doesn't belong to you."

Killian thought it over. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

Rumpelstiltskin was at a loss for words. If this was some kind of trick, it was the most idiotic trick ever, and the pirate's face was guileless. Rumpel could smell a liar a mile off, and while the man in front of him might be a lot of things, he wasn't a liar.

He could just turn Killian away, wash his hands of this ridiculous business. But Killian had a point about information, and Rumpelstiltskin could never have too much information. "I'd like to add a few of things," Rumpel said. "I can ask you to seek out certain things. You can't go anywhere inside the castle without my explicit permission. Nothing leaves the castle without my permission either, and that includes anything you might see, hear, or otherwise learn."

"Deal," Killian said, and stuck out his hand.

Rumpelstiltskin hesitated. "Magic is binding, dearie. Break any part of this deal, and I assure you, you will feel the repercussions."

Killian eyeballed him. "Are you chickening out?"

Rumpelstiltskin sneered. "Hardly. Just warning you."

Killian nodded at his outstretched hand. "What are you waiting for, then?"

Gritting his teeth, Rumpel slapped his hand into Killian's, and the magic clamped down over them.

"So," Killian said with a smirk, and suddenly Rumpel felt he'd gotten the short end of the deal, "how about a tour?"

* * *

Gold was in the back of his shop when he heard the bell over his door jangle. Since he was pretty sure he knew who it was, he stayed where he was. Sure enough, the curtain was pushed aside and Izzy peered through, Blaine hovering behind her.

Grabbing his cane, Gold pushed himself to his feet as Izzy approached him. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know. "Well," he said, taking a step towards her. "Looks like you've lost, dearie."

A tiny voice in the back of her head was screaming at her to run, but she held her ground. "Looks like," she replied.

He took another step, and now he was so close she could feel the warmth of his body. "I believe," he said quietly, his tone just shy of hesitant, "you owe me something."

"I believe so," she breathed, transfixed in his gaze.

Quickly, before he lost his nerve, he stooped to press his lips to hers. He'd intended for it to be a brief moment of contact, but now that he'd started, he couldn't stop, not with her fingers tangling in his hair and her body pressing up against him. He put one of his hands on the small of her back as he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer to him and clinging to her like a lifeline.

Behind them, someone made a gagging noise, and they sprang apart. Blaine was watching them with his nose wrinkled, and Izzy felt her cheeks burn. She'd completely forgotten he was there. "Get a room or something," Blaine said, making a face.

Gold fixed him with his best glower. "You'd do well to hold your tongue, boy."

Blaine held up his hands. "I'm right here, man. Figured I'd stop you before you started taking each other's clothes off."

Izzy wanted to curl up in a corner and die of mortification.

Gold made a move towards the younger man, but Izzy had the presence of mind to lay a hand on his arm and stop him.

Understanding dawned on Blaine's face, and he smirked at Gold. "What? Don't want people knowing the town terror is dating the pretty librarian? It certainly would undermine your fearsome reputation."

Izzy tightened her grip on the pawnbroker. "Blaine…"

"Sorry, sorry," he said, making a placating gesture. "I'll not speak a word of this to anyone. Izzy, you've shown me more kindness than I deserve, so the debt I owe you extends to your Mr. Gold."

She let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. "Thank you."

"Great!" Blaine said, clapping his hands together. "Now that that's all settled, you'll have to excuse me. All this romance stuff is cloying up the air, so I have to go find a trash can to throw up in." He gave them a tiny, polite bow. "Good day." Doing a neat little spin on his heel, he vanished through the doorway.

Gold and Izzy looked at each other.

After a moment, Gold asked doubtfully, "Are you sure you want to keep him?"

"Yes," said Izzy.


	3. In Which Gaston Is a Nuisance and So Is Blaine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could be called In Which Killian Wins a Fight For Once Instead of Being a Terrible Pirate Who Needs To Find a New Profession Like Knitting Because Come On Everyone and Their Mother Has Beaten the Snot Out of Him. But that's kind of long so we'll go with one that's shorter and doesn't undermine Killian's manliness.
> 
> I swear to god I'm still working on Say Apple. Cross my heart.

Killian happened to be the closest one to the front door when there came a knock. Curious, he swung the door open to see a young man in a dashing knight's ensemble, complete with a red cape thrown across his shoulders. The knight had drawn his sword and had it pointed right at Killian's heart.

Killian eyed the sword without concern. "Not even going to buy me dinner first?"

"I am Sir Gaston," the man announced. "And I've come to-"

"Ah, _you're_ Gaston," Killian said with a brilliant grin, crossing his arms. "I've heard quite a few things about you."

That gave Gaston pause. "From Belle?"

"Oh yes," Killian replied, smile widening. "Mostly about how you're dull as a brick."

Gaston's grip on the sword tightened. "You'll not sway me," he said. "I've come to fight the beast and rescue my lady."

Killian burst out laughing, undeterred when Gaston pressed the tip of his sword into the leather of Killian's vest, right over the pirate's heart. "You mock me?" Gaston snarled.

Killian pushed the sword aside with his finger, still snickering. "I do mock you, sir. You're dumber than you look. An impressive feat."

Gaston gritted his teeth and held the sword to Killian's throat. "Let the Dark One come out and face me himself instead of hiding behind his insolent lackey."

Killian pushed the blade away again. "I'm no one's lackey, and he's not hiding behind me. He probably doesn't even know you're here. Besides, I've got a better idea." He made a dramatic flourish with his hands and took on a higher-pitched tone. "Let's pretend _I'm_ Rumpelstiltskin. I'll make you a deal."

"I've had enough of your impudence," Gaston snapped, bringing his sword back to point at Killian once more.

Killian just batted it away yet again. "Ah, ah, ah," he said, continuing to mimic Rumpelstiltskin. "The deal is this: defeat me, and I'll let you in for a glass of water and a chat with Belle. How does that sound?"

"Then draw your sword," Gaston growled.

Killian crinkled his nose. "Haven't got it on me."

"Then go get it!" The knight looked ready to begin tearing his hair out. Of all the ways Gaston must have imagined this could have gone, Killian was pretty sure this wasn't one of them.

"Nah, that's okay," Killian said with a shrug. "Don't need it anyway."

"Fine!" Gaston shouted. He charged at Killian, who sidestepped neatly and stuck his foot out, tripping Gaston. As Gaston began scrambling upright, Killian placed his boot on the knight's shoulder and gave him a good shove, and Gaston went tumbling down the front steps, landing in an undignified heap at the bottom.

"Too much armor!" Killian called down to him. "And practice a bit more before next time!"

With that, he strolled back inside and closed the doors behind him, and made his way to the dining room where Rumpel and/or Belle could often be found. Sure enough, Belle was sitting at the table eating stew, a spoonful paused between the bowl and her mouth as she fixated on the book in front of her.

"Hey, Belle," he said.

She dropped the spoon in surprise and looked up. "What?"

He grinned. "You'll never believe who just paid us a visit."

* * *

Blaine was roused from sleep by someone vigorously shaking his shoulder. He groaned and rolled over, clamping his pillow around his head. "Geroff," he mumbled.

"Come _on_ , Blaine," said Izzy. "It's Sunday. The library's closed today."

He curled up tighter. "Doesn't that mean I get to sleep as much as I want?"

He heard a huff of annoyance. "Not this Sunday. _This_ Sunday we're going shopping."

"Why," he groaned, trying to burrow into the couch as far as he could.

"Because you've been wearing my ex's T-shirt and a ratty pair of jeans for the past two days. You need clothes, and I wouldn't mind getting a new dress myself."

He peered suspiciously at her from under his pillow. "How are you going to pay for this?"

She held up a plastic rectangle in front of him, and he squinted at it. Stamped neatly on it was a series of numbers and the name _Nicholas R. Gold._ "You stole the scariest, most powerful man in town's credit card?"

Izzy flushed. "How do you know he didn't just give it to me?"

"Hell would freeze over before Mr. Gold agreed to buy me a decent wardrobe, and you look like the guiltiest person in the world right now."

She turned an even brighter shade of crimson. "Well, I didn't exactly _steal_ it. And it's better to ask forgiveness than permission."

A slow smile spread over Blaine's face. "Let's go shopping."

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin was spinning at his wheel when he heard the knock at the door. With a sigh, he stood and went to the foyer. When he opened the doors, there was a young knight standing on his front step with sword drawn. He was wearing a little less armor than was customary, but still seemed to put more effort into appearance than practicality. He also looked almost relieved to see Rumpelstiltskin.

"I am Sir Gaston," he said, "and I am here to-"

"Again?" Rumpelstiltskin asked. "I distinctly remember Killian saying he quite literally gave you the boot."

"I am here to rescue Belle," Gaston continued, raising his voice over Rumpelstiltskin's. "Prepare to do battle."

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head and snapped his fingers. Killian appeared beside him in a puff of purple smoke. The pirate staggered, disoriented, but when he caught sight of Gaston, a predatory grin stretched across his face.

"I'll leave you to it," Rumpel said, turning on his heel and striding away.

Killian cracked his knuckles, and Gaston's determined expression wavered.

"So," Killian said. "Where were we?"

* * *

Blaine examined himself in the mirror, turning this way and that.

"I like it," Izzy said.

He made a contemplative sound, then turned up the collar of the long black coat and nodded. The coat came down to his knees and was made of a warm, thick fabric that was perfect for keeping out the chilly Maine wind. He was already wearing some of the clothes they'd purchased at a couple other stores – black jeans, practical lace-up boots, an off-white collared shirt, and a burgundy vest. "Me too."

"Here," Izzy said, digging into one of their bags. "Try it with this." She handed him a dark grey scarf, and he wrapped it around his neck.

He grinned and posed. "Very stylish. You have good taste, my dear. I've never been better dressed."

"Well," Izzy said, smiling wryly, "Mr. Gold is a sucker for fashion, and he'll probably be less angry if you actually look good in what his money got you."

Blaine laughed. "You're sneakier than you appear."

"I learned that from Nicholas," Izzy replied archly. "So it's his own fault, really."

That just made him laugh harder. "You're terrible."

She sighed, the remorseful sound at odds with her grin. "I know."

He slid off the jacket and draped it over his arm. "I think we've frittered away enough of your beau's money today. Shall we?"

They paid for the coat, and he slipped it back on as they stepped out of the store. They'd only made it a few steps down the sidewalk when Izzy realized they were short a bag. "I must have left it back at the dressing rooms," she groaned.

"I'll run back and get it," Blaine offered, and vanished back into the store, leaving her on the sidewalk. She sighed and placed the bags she was carrying on a nearby bench.

"Hey there, Izzy," said a voice behind her, and her stomach dropped. Slowly, she turned to see George Gastbury standing beside her, a little too close for comfort.

"Hello," she replied unenthusiastically, shifting away slightly. He shifted with her.

"Who's your friend?" he asked.

"I'm fine, thanks," she said dryly. "And how are you?"

George rolled his eyes. "Come on, don't be like that. I'm just saying hi."

"No, you're prying into my business, which is none of yours." She couldn't suppress her rising irritation.

"What, is he my replacement?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the shop entrance, something unpleasant creeping into his tone. "Upgrading to a newer model?"

Izzy bristled. "You've got some nerve, assuming that I'd need or want to _replace_ you. I thought I'd made it quite clear that I didn't even want to speak to you again."

He put his hand on her arm and she flinched away. "Look, I just want you to know that if you ever change your mind-"

"I _won't_ ," Izzy snapped, standing her ground even though she didn't like how close he was, or the way he seemed to be trying to lord his height over her. Anger flashed across his face, and he opened his mouth to reply.

"This guy bothering you, Iz?" someone interrupted. George turned around and nearly knocked his forehead on Blaine's chin.

"Yes," Izzy said, trying to hide how relieved she was. "Blaine, this is George, my _ex_ -boyfriend. George, this is Blaine."

Blaine smiled thinly. "Displeased to meet you."

George's posture became aggressive, but, though Blaine was slighter, he was taller and very good at using that to his advantage. He was standing so close that George had to crane his neck a little to look up at him, despite the fact that George wasn't short. Still, her ex didn't seem inclined to back down. "Mind your own business," George growled.

"The lady is saying no," Blaine said. "You'd do best to heed her words."

"Or what?"

Blaine's arm moved and George suddenly staggered back, bent double and struggling to breath. Blaine put a hand on his shoulder. "Goodness, are you all right?" he said with false concern. "Perhaps you'd better sit." Maneuvering George in front of the bench, he hit the back of George's knee with his own, and George dropped to the seat like a sack of potatoes. He looked ready to land another blow, but Izzy dug her fingers into his jacket sleeve, so he settled for sticking a finger under George's nose. "Don't threaten Izzy, and don't threaten me. Have an interesting day." And then he allowed himself to be led away.

Once they were a safe distance down the sidewalk, Izzy murmured, "Thank you."

Blaine hummed in acknowledgement, then said, abruptly, "You went out with that git?"

She felt her cheeks burn, and she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "We were high school sweethearts, went kind of on-and-off after we graduated. I ended it for good a few months ago, when I… well, when I started getting close with Nicholas. Being around him made me realize how unhappy I was with George. I feel so stupid in retrospect. It was like I was only dating him because he was there."

He hooked his arm through hers. "Well, we all make mistakes. I'm just glad I usually drink too much the night before to remember mine."

* * *

Killian heard a knock at the door and raced for the foyer. He skidded to a stop in front of the double doors and took a moment to smooth down his clothes and run a hand through his hair, looking forward to picking a fight. Feeling his appearance was suitable for challenging the suitor, he swung the door open and was not disappointed.

Gaston, it seemed, had learned. He was devoid of all armor except for what was strictly necessary and hadn't drawn his sword yet, though his hand rested on the hilt.

"Persistent, aren't we," Killian remarked dryly.

"Yes," the knight snapped.

"Well, let's get on with it, then," Killian said.

Gaston needed no second invitation. He unsheathed his sword in a flash and lunged forward, making sure not to over-extend his reach. Killian danced back, grinning, as the knight quickly recovered and struck out again. The tip of his sword grazed Killian's vest, leaving a small rip in its wake.

"Ah," Killian said, ducking to the side. "You've been practicing, I see."

"Extensively," was the curt reply as Gaston came around again. Killian snatched up his sword from where he'd been keeping it in the umbrella stand and rolled away, coming up on his feet with his blade drawn in time to parry the next blow.

"Congratulations," the pirate said, easily deflecting Gaston's blade. "You made it past the threshold."

Gaston didn't reply, his face lined with grim determination.

"Your footwork's rather sloppy," Killian commented, sidestepping the knight. "Might want to work on that."

Gaston spun, and Killian parried again. "You're a bit unbalanced. Focus on keeping your weight centered." Killian took the offensive now, driving Gaston back towards the door. "And above all else," the pirate said, jabbing forward so that Gaston took a stumbling step back, "be aware of your surroundings."

Gaston's eyes widened as he realized his backward movement had left him teetering on the top step. There was a brief, almost comical moment as he was suspended on the edge, and then he went tumbling downwards.

"Don't say I didn't warn you about the stairs!" Killian called down to him. "It'll keep happening if you don't shape up!" He stooped and picked up Gaston's sword from where the knight had dropped it. "I'll hang onto this for you," he added loudly enough for Gaston to hear. "Come by anytime to collect it!"

At the base of the steps, Gaston pushed himself to his feet, brushing dust off his clothes. He shot an indignant look up at Killian and then stormed away down the road.

Chuckling to himself, the pirate strolled back inside, depositing both blades in the umbrella stand before wandering off to find some food.

* * *

Monday morning in the library was uneventful. Blaine lounged in one of the armchairs placed by the window, the book he had been reading open on his face. He was bored, bored, _bored_. Had he been working for anyone but Izzy, he'd be wreaking havoc by now, but there was something about the pretty librarian that made him loath to disappoint her, even if he _didn't_ factor in all the kindness she'd shown him.

But he was so _bored_.

Izzy was sitting at the front desk, working with the computer when she heard someone groan, " _Izzy_."

She sighed.

" _Izzzzzzyyyyyyy._ "

"Yes, Blaine?" she asked patiently.

A hand appeared on the edge of her desk, then another. The top of Blaine's head slowly followed.

"Izzy," he whispered, his nose resting on the edge.

" _Yes_ , Blaine?"

"I'm bored," he said.

"Did you shelve the books I asked you to?"

"Yes."

"Did you alphabetize the history section?"

A pause, then, "Mostly."

"Go do that, then."

He groaned and vanished, a thud informing her he'd dropped to the floor.

"Just _do_ it."

Moaning like he was dying, she heard a shuffling sound and peered over the desk to see him dragging himself across the floor. "You're not five years old," she scolded. "And we _just_ got you those clothes."

He rolled onto his back to stare mournfully at her. "Alphabetizing is _boring_."

She glared back at him. "You work in a library, Blaine. What did you _think_ you'd be doing?"

He grumbled to himself as he sat up, pushing off the floor and skulking away into the forest of shelves.

An hour later, she heard something scraping, like he was scratching the walls. "Oh my _god_ , Blaine," she said.

"Izzy," he wailed, close by but unseen.

She stood up so fast her chair rolled away from her, leaning over the desk to spot him, but he wasn't there. Something grabbed her ankle and she shrieked. "Izzy," Blaine sobbed, clinging to her. "Save me, I'm dying."

She tightened her hands into claws. "You're dying because I'm _going to murder you_."

Blaine let go of her like she had the plague and scrambled away, and she lunged after him. He sprinted across the library, shouting, "Mercy, mercy!" with Izzy hot on his heels. They dodged up and down the aisles between shelves, Izzy continuously coming close to grabbing him but never quite managing it. It all came to an abrupt halt when Blaine skidded to a stop so suddenly that Izzy collided with his back. Peering around him, she saw a young boy standing by the reception desk, watching them with wide eyes.

Izzy took a deep breath, straightening out her blouse and tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Hey there," she said with a smile, pushing Blaine to the side. "Sorry about that. What can I help you with?"

"Um." The boy's eyes darted between her and Blaine a couple of times before settling on her. "Miss Blanchard recommended a book you have to me."

Izzy approached him and held out her hand. "I'm Izzy. Which book is it?"

The boy shook her hand, tentatively, and replied, "I'm Henry." He dug around in his pockets, retrieving a slip of paper and handing it to her, seeming to gain a little more confidence. She skimmed over the paper and smiled again. " _Once Upon a Time_ , huh?"

He smiled back at her, nodding. "M-hm. Miss Blanchard said I would like all the adventures and knights and stuff."

"Well, Mary-Margaret has very good judgment." She motioned for Henry to follow her, ignoring Blaine, who trailed after them. Henry seemed to brighten at the fact that Izzy was familiar with his teacher, and kept in stride with her, watching with interest as she scanned the shelves, moving her lips as she ran her fingers across the spines. "Ah!" She slid a huge book off the shelf, almost a third Henry's size. Before she handed it to him, though, she asked, "Do you have a library card?"

He shook his head.

"All right, let me hook you up with one." She led him back to the front desk, Blaine still ghosting along behind them. As Izzy typed at the computer, she asked, "You're the mayor's son, right?"

Henry looked down and nodded, a little sullenly.

"Well, I've heard plenty of good things about you," Izzy said cheerily. "Miss Blanchard and I have lunch together every now and then, and she adores you." She handed Henry the card and the book. "Keep it as long as you like – I'll keep refreshing it for you, but I had better get it back in pristine condition, young man."

Henry ran his hand over the embossed leather cover and grinned at her. "You can count on me, Miss Izzy."

"Good," Izzy said with a smile. "And feel free to come by any time, for whatever reason. You've got friends here." At last she fixed her eyes on the man hovering at the periphery. "Even Blaine."

Henry slid the book into his backpack. "I gotta get home, but maybe I could come here to do my homework some time?"

"Absolutely," Izzy replied, and Henry beamed at her. He bid them both good afternoon and left, a little bounce in his step.

"Cute kid," Blaine remarked.

Izzy smiled. "He is," she said, but then her expression darkened and she glared at Blaine. " _You_ , on the other hand…"

Blaine hurriedly checked the watch he didn't have. "Gosh, look at the time. I have to go… feed the fish."

"We don't have fish."

"Well, I'm sure there's fish somewhere that need feeding," he said, backing towards the door. "I'll just go… find them. And feed them."

Izzy waved him off. "Bring back something from Granny's," she said wearily. "This fish needs fed, too."

Blaine pumped his fist and vanished out the door as fast as he could.

* * *

Belle was polishing the table in the dining room when there was a knock at the door. At first she ignored it, but then she realized that Killian was probably off counting his gold and Rumpelstiltskin was up in his study. So she went to answer the door, and was met by her stunned ex-fiancé.

"Belle?" he said, disbelieving.

"Gaston," she said, resigned.

He held out his hand. "Come on, quick, before the doorman shows up."

"The-" Belle took a moment to register this, then burst out laughing. "You mean _Killian_?"

"If that's his name, then yes." He reached for her again. "Come _on_ , let's get out of here."

She stepped back. "I'm not going with you, Gaston."

He looked confused. "What? Why not?"

"Because I made a _deal_ ," she replied. "I'm not going to break it. And I rather like it here."

"You…" Gaston's mouth opened and shut, like a fish. "Don't be stupid. Just come with me!"

She jumped away from his next attempt to grab her. "Don't make me call Killian," she warned.

That gave him pause. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, I most definitely would."

His eyes darted around, then he puffed up. "I can take him."

"Fine." Belle crossed her arms and shouted, " _Killian_!"

There was a moment of silence, then the hurried tramping of boots. Killian ran into the room, sliding to a stop next to Belle and bowing. "Milady."

She pointed to Gaston. "This man says he can take you."

Killian turned to the knight, sizing him up. "Your sword's in the bucket behind you. Hand me mine while you're at it. Let's see if your footwork's improved any."

Belle stood back and watched Killian easily deflect Gaston's attacks, giving out advice all the while. They'd only been going at it for a few moments when Rumpelstiltskin silently appeared beside her. "Not tempted to go with him?" he murmured.

"Not especially," Belle replied.

"You could, you know," he said, so quietly that she wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly, or at all.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he answered, and that, if anything, confirmed she'd heard him right.

For his sake (and maybe a bit for hers), she pretended she hadn't.


	4. In Which Belle Becomes a Pirate and Henry Comes To His Own Conclusions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently realized that I had a nearly complete chapter of this in my files, and so I decided I might as well finish it up and post it. I'm not sure if this means I'll be formally returning to this fic (for which I apologize, since this ends on a bit of a cliffhanger), but I figured I'd give y'all what I have.

"Miss Izzy?"

At the whispered request, Izzy looked up to see Henry standing uncertainly in front of the reception desk. Smiling, she put her pen down and gave him her full attention. "Hello, Henry. Something I can help you with?"

He fiddled with the straps of his backpack. "I wanted your opinion on something. Is Blaine around?"

"He should be in the reference section. Do you want to go find him?"

Henry nodded, and so Izzy stepped from behind the desk and led him back among the shelves. They turned a corner and saw Blaine on the floor, propped up against a bookshelf and snoring softly.

Izzy sighed and nudged him with her foot. He choked on a snore and jerked awake. "Wuzzat?"

"Alert as ever, I see," Izzy remarked. "Henry wants to talk to us about something."

Blaine scrambled to his feet, wiping a spot of drool from the corner of his mouth. "'Sup, kid?" he asked as he straightened out his shirt.

Henry glanced nervously between the two of them. "It's about the book I borrowed."

That, combined with the boy's expression, alarmed Izzy. "Did something happen to it?"

Henry shook his head vehemently. "Let's sit down. I'll show you guys."

The three of them went to the one table that the library provided for patrons (when they had patrons) and sat, with Henry between the two adults. He pulled the huge book out of his backpack and placed it on the table in front of them. Taking a deep breath to gather his courage, he said, "I think everyone in Storybrooke is a fairytale character."

This was met with silence. Izzy and Blaine shared a look over the top of Henry's head.

After a few moments, Izzy asked, "What makes you say that?"

"I  _know_  it sounds crazy," Henry said, flipping the book open. "But look at these pictures. The Evil Queen." He pointed to the page before them. "Does she remind you of anyone?"

Izzy and Blaine leaned in to examine it. "She does look rather familiar…" Izzy mused.

"Mayor Mills!" Blaine exclaimed suddenly.

"Yeah!" said Henry enthusiastically, brightening considerably now that he was sure they weren't going to flat out reject his idea. "And the Evil Queen's name is Regina, too!"

"But one similar face is hardly proof," Izzy protested. Henry's story was tugging at the side of her that longed for adventure, but practicality overruled it.

"I know," Henry replied, and flipped to a new page, a new picture, and tapped it.

Izzy narrowed her eyes at the couple portrayed at a wedding. The woman… "Mary-Margaret?"

Henry grinned triumphantly. "And these aren't the fairytales we usually hear, either. When the huntsman let Snow White go – that's Miss Blanchard – she hid out in the woods and became a thief. And she met Prince Charming – I haven't figured out who he is yet – because she tried to rob his carriage! And they have all sorts of adventures and troubles before they're finally able to get married. But then the Evil Queen casts a curse to take everyone in Fairy Tale Land to a place where no one can get their happy endings, and that's Storybrooke! So now everyone's trapped here with no memories of who they were, frozen in time until the curse can be broken!"

"How can the curse get broken?" Blaine asked.

Henry looked a little crestfallen. "I haven't gotten to that part yet. But I have started to figure out who people are! Dr. Hopper is Jiminy Cricket, and Ruby at the diner is Little Red Riding Hood!"

Blaine looked entranced. "Who are we?"

"I haven't figured that out yet, either," Henry said, closing the book. "But I'm working on it. I call it Operation Cobra. Do you guys want to help me?"

"Yes," Blaine said immediately.

"Of course," Izzy replied with considerably more restraint. "Who else have you talked to about this?"

"Dr. Hopper," Henry said. "Miss Blanchard. But you've got to promise not to tell my mom. She can't know what we're up to."

"Sworn to secrecy. Got it." Blaine mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key.

Henry grinned, sliding the book back into his bag. "You guys are awesome. Mom's expecting me so I gotta go, but I'll keep you updated." With that, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and trotted out of the library.

Izzy turned to Blaine. "You don't actually believe him, do you?"

Blaine shrugged. "Not really. But it's totally cool, and I am behind Mayor Mills being an evil queen one hundred percent."

Izzy giggled. "Can't disagree with you there."

* * *

Belle was puttering around in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She'd found a recipe book in the library and had been systematically working her way through it, with varying results. The words "I've tried something new tonight" never failed to bring apprehension (and occasionally panic, depending on the smells coming from the kitchen) to the eyes of the Dark Castle's residents.

Someone behind her cleared their throat, and she spun to see Killian leaning in the doorway.

"Something smells good," he said with a grin.

"Killian!" Belle picked up a dishrag and dried off her hands so she could give the pirate a hug. "You're back!"

"I am indeed," he said, returning the gesture with only one arm, hiding the other behind his back. "And I've brought you a souvenir."

"Oh, you shouldn't have!"

He smiled widely. "Couldn't help it, luv. I saw it and thought of you." With a sweeping bow, he presented her with a sword. It was sheathed in a simple black scabbard and seemed fairly short (but then again, so was she). The handle was wrapped in brown leather, and the guard and pommel were burnished gold. It was plain but practical, and she liked that.

"This was so nice of you, Killian," she said apologetically, "but I haven't the faintest idea of how to use it."

"I figured you wouldn't," he replied, straightening up. "So I'm going to teach you, starting tomorrow."

Almost instantly, the tales she'd read of knights and heroes and swashbuckling pirates and other such adventurers setting out into the great unknown went dancing through her head.

Killian seemed to see this in her face, because he added, "I might even be able to take you sailing sometime. There is that huge lake in the backyard, after all."

Belle smiled. She was sold.

* * *

Henry rushed into the library. He saw Blaine shelving books near the front and ran up to him. "Blaine," he whispered excitedly. "I figured out who you are."

Blaine turned to Henry, grinning. "Who?"

"I had a bit of trouble with it, but you're Captain Hook," Henry replied.

Blaine looked puzzled. "But I have both my hands."

Henry nodded. "I know, that's what gave me so much trouble! In the book, you're not called Hook, your name is Killian Jones. But Killian's a pirate in Neverland, and his nemesis is Peter Pan. I think the guy who wrote the Peter Pan book made up the hook part to make you seem more sinister."

"So, I'm a pirate, huh?" Blaine stroked his chin contemplatively. "I  _like_  it."

"Here." Henry dug around in his backpack and pulled the book out, struggling to balance it as he searched for the right page. At last he found it. "There you are," he said, holding it up for Blaine's inspection.

Blaine examined the picture and nodded appreciatively. "He does certainly resemble me. Suave, badass, dashing good looks."

"Try obnoxious," Izzy said.

The boys looked up in surprise. She'd come up beside them while they'd been distracted by the book.

"Hey, Miss Izzy," Henry said cheerfully. "I'm sorry, I still haven't figured out who you are yet."

"That's okay," she replied, ruffling his hair. "But could you two keep it down a bit? There  _are_  a couple other people here."

"Sorry," they whispered simultaneously.

"Anyway," Henry said, keeping his tone hushed, "I've got to write a paper on the state symbols of Maine. Where can I find some books to help me out? I need at least three sources."

Blaine mock saluted. "Agent Hook accepts this mission."

Izzy shook her head, smiling to herself as Blaine pretended to hold a gun and flattened himself against the nearest bookshelf, Henry following suit. Together, they crept away down the aisle, and Izzy returned to her own work.

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin had just finished brewing a potion that could turn people into llamas when he realized that he hadn't seen Belle in a while. Usually, she'd have already come in with a cup of tea and a lecture on how he doesn't eat enough or rest enough or he should open the window because it's so stuffy in here how are you even breathing?

Curiosity piqued, he teleported down to the dining room. It was empty, and so was the library, as well as the kitchen, ruling out her usual haunts.

Then he heard clacking coming from outside, and made his way out into the garden. There, on the lawn, was Belle, holding a stick and sparring with Killian. He couldn't hear them quite clearly from this distance, but it seemed like Killian was giving her instructions. He strode towards them, and as he approached he could pick up Killian's words.

"You've got to remember it's not about strength," he was saying. "I know it's tempting to just sort of hack, but swordplay is just as intellectual as it is physical. So try it again – don't swing from the shoulder, you need a bit more control…" He trailed off as Rumpelstiltskin drew up alongside them.

"Rumpel!" Belle said, grinning from ear to ear. "Killian's teaching me how to swordfight!"

Rumpelstiltskin couldn't curb the stab of jealously that shot through him. He'd noticed how close the pirate and his housekeeper had gotten, and had grown increasingly envious of their relationship.  _Of course she enjoys spending time with him – he's charismatic, good-looking, adventurous…_

Everything Rumpelstiltskin was not.

He mentally kicked himself. Why was he comparing himself to Killian? Why did it even matter how much time Belle spent with the pirate? She was just a housekeeper. That's all. Doesn't matter. Nope.

"Why on earth would you need to know that?" he asked, trying not to growl. From the look Belle shot him, he hadn't quite managed to be civil.

"I don't see why not," she replied, arching an eyebrow at him.

He tried to swallow his bile and smiled thinly. "Well, as fun as this seems, I believe you have some chores to attend to." With that, he spun on his heel and began to march away.

After a few moments, Belle caught up with him. "What was that about?"

"What?" he snapped.

"Rumpel." She snagged his sleeve, drawing him to a halt. "Tell me what's the matter."

"The matter?" He sneered. "The matter is you're shirking your responsibilities to fool around with our dear resident pirate. I didn't hire you to frolic in the fields."

She gaped at him.

Now that he'd started, he couldn't stop. "I've been lax about how you go through your duties, and now it seems you've forgotten why you're here. Don't let Killian make you think that I'm a pushover who will just let you do what you like. Maybe I should move you back into the dungeon, just to remind you exactly who you work for. So go scrub some pots or something before-"

There was a loud smack, and it took him a second before he realized she'd slapped him. Now it was his turn to stare.

Her eyes were bright with hurt. "I don't know what's got you so angry, but you've no right to take it out on me. None of those things are true, and you know it. I'm sorry I slapped you, but maybe it will knock some sense into you." She was standing ramrod straight, her hands clenched at her sides. "If you need me, I'll be scrubbing some pots or something."

He couldn't help flinching at the way she flung his words back in his face, and she shoved past him, storming to the castle and slamming the door behind her.

He stood there for a while, prodding absently at his stinging cheek. Killian came up and clapped him on the shoulder. "You screwed up, mate," he said.

"Yes," Rumpelstiltskin snarled, fixing Killian with his best glare. "I noticed."

"I'd apologize, if I were you," Killian said.

Rumpel pushed the pirate's hand away and vanished in a cloud of purple smoke.

* * *

It was evening, and Belle was curled up in the window alcove in the library, reading a book. She heard the door creak open, and someone shuffled into the room. A glance from the corner of her eye revealed it to be Rumpelstiltskin. She stuck her nose into her book and furiously pretended to still be reading.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

She ignored him.

Tentatively, he approached her, stopping a few feet away and coughing into his hand.

She turned the page.

He sidled a little closer. "I…" he began.

Still, no response.

"I'm, uh…" His hands fidgeted. "You're right. That was uncalled for."

At last, she looked up at him.

He watched her desperately, waiting for some sort of reply.

"I've been thinking," she said slowly. "It has to do with Killian, doesn't it?"

"What?" he croaked.

"The reason you were angry," she said. "It's something about me and Killian." She considered him. "You're jealous of him."

He coughed again, looking away. "I've no idea what you're going on about."

She slid to her feet. "It's okay, Rumpelstiltskin." Smiling, she added, "I accept your apology. Just don't do it again." Standing on her toes, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

It wasn't until she'd brushed hurriedly past him, red-faced, and out of the library that he realized she'd just told him what to do. He was about to start after her, tell her he might have apologized but she couldn't just order him around in his own home, but paused, lightly touching the spot she'd kissed him, and decided he'd let it slide this time.

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin took to watching Belle and Killian from his tower study, which had a nice view of the estate and the lake in the distance. After their… discussion a week ago, he'd found it a bit easier to suppress bitterness towards the pirate, though he wasn't sure why. She hadn't said anything that gave him reason to believe she wasn't interested in Killian. Maybe it was the way she'd smiled at him, or maybe it was his own wishful thinking.

In any case, things had settled into a kind of routine. She'd do her chores, bring him his afternoon tea, and then head outside to learn some swashbuckling, as Killian had begun to call it. Belle was a quick study, and was rapidly arriving at her teacher's skill level. He felt a strange surge of admiration as he watched her crack Killian in the ribs with her stick (she'd learned that the pirate had a high pain tolerance and would hit her back if she stopped to apologize). She was truly something extraordinary.

If he hadn't been tuning in with magic, he would have missed Belle's shout of, "Hey, Rumpel!"

In seconds, he was out in the field with them. "How may I be of assistance?"

She exchanged a glance with Killian. "Do you have… building supplies?"

He blinked, taken aback. "I do. Why?"

She and Killian shared another look. "It's a secret," Belle said.

He arched an eyebrow. "Seriously, dearie?"

She lifted her chin. "We'll tell you when we're done."

He shook a finger at her. "Not the point."

"C'mon, mate," Killian said. "Just give us a few weeks."

Rumpel narrowed his eyes. "I don't like people keeping secrets from me."

"But you keep plenty yourself," Belle pointed.

Rumpelstiltskin scowled. "There's a difference."

"The difference is this is harmless," she said.

He paused. Touché. After a moment of looking back and forth between their pleading faces (Killian was pulling over-the-top puppy eyes), he sighed and said, "Shed next to the garden. Try not to break anything."

As soon as his back was turned, Belle and Killian high-fived each other.

* * *

"Miss Izzy," Henry whispered.

Izzy looked up to see Henry peering over the reception desk at her.

"Hello, Henry," she said with a smile.

Henry glanced around and then leaned in conspiratorially. "I finished the book," he said.

She leaned forward as well. "And?"

"Snow White and Prince Charming had a daughter named Emma, who they sent to our world through a magic wardrobe. According to Rumpelstiltskin, she's the one who is going to break the curse."

Izzy arched an eyebrow. "Rumpelstiltskin? The guy who spins straw into gold?"

Henry nodded. "Except he does way more than that. He's the one who created the curse for the Evil Queen. But he doesn't like her, so he left that loophole." He bit his lip. "I haven't figured out who he is here, yet."

"Can I see a picture?" Izzy asked.

Henry quickly tugged the book from his bag and flipped it open to a page near the end.

"Ah," said Izzy. "I can see why you're having difficulties."

Henry fell silent, fingering the edge of the page. Something was obviously troubling him.

"Is everything alright?" Izzy asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

The boy opened his mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. After another long moment, he said, "I think…" He took a deep breath. "I think Emma from the book is my real mom."

Dismay washed over Izzy, and for the first time she wondered if it had actually been a good idea to indulge Henry and his "Operation Cobra." She hadn't realized how involved he'd become, and with this revelation, it seemed to be becoming borderline unhealthy. But she had to treat the situation carefully. "What makes you think that?"

Henry's head was bowed over the book. "I know you don't really believe the stuff I'm telling you, and Blaine doesn't either. Nothing I can do will convince you until the curse is broken, but it's  _true_. I've always felt something was weird about this town, but I could never name it. Have you noticed I'm the only kid here who advances in grades? Everyone around me is staying the same age, while I grow up. This town is stuck in time, but I'm not affected, because I'm not from here."

Izzy's head was suddenly feeling stuffy. "Henry, that… that can't possibly be right." She tried to look at him, tried to think, but she couldn't focus. Something in his words was resonating with her, something about time… Henry had been a baby when Mayor Mills had adopted him, and now he was ten. That was right. But when she thought of the other children, she couldn't remember them as any other age. Could she? Were their faces all the same while only Henry's changed? That couldn't be right. It  _couldn't_.

"Miss Izzy?" Henry's alarmed voice broke through the haze, and Izzy snapped back into reality. What had she been thinking about? The past few minutes were a blur. When had Henry gotten here?

"Sorry, Henry," she said, putting a hand to her forehead. "I must not have slept well last night. Did you come here for something?"

Henry looked at her, then at the open book in front of him. "No," he said slowly. He closed the book and slid it back into his backpack. "I got what I needed. Have a good day, Miss Izzy."

"You too, Henry," she replied, watching him walk out the door. Her pounding headache faded, and she returned to her work.

* * *

Henry turned the corner, headed for home, and then he stopped. He clenched his hands on the straps of his backpack. His interaction with Miss Izzy had finally fully confirmed his suspicions. There was no longer any doubt in his mind that the curse was real, and it was up to him to bring Emma to Storybrooke.


End file.
